A/N: I honestly thought that after David Tennant regenerated in Doctor Who, that I'd go back to obsessing over Legolas. Sadly, I instead caught sight of Samuel Sullivan from "heroes" ;( Amazing actor...
So, my exams are officially over... Okay not really. The next ones aren't for another 4 months I think, and in my opinion, I think I only failed one of the three tests I just sat: Chemistry. Ah well. This chapter is kinda boring, sorry. The next few might be too, but I need to get the unnecessary stuff out the way, which is why this chapter seems a bit abrupt in some places, especially nearer the end. Read on...

Disclaimed

Starcrossed
And So It Begins...

"Théoden was right, we have better chances at victory here… And now?"

"By the window on the right"

"Aragorn, you said it yourself. The Uruk-hai are massive in numbers!"

"But we have fought many wars, Gimli… And now?"

"The doorway."

"Not quite, a foot beside it."

"Aye, we have fought many wars… But let's not be forgetting these are no orcs!"

Aragorn sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair as he strode across the room whilst his friends sat, Legolas on the bench and Gimli opposite him. Slowly, Aragorn began sidestepping cautiously, calling out to Legolas as he did.

"And now, Mellon nîn?"

Legolas frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened intently.

"You are moving across the room to your left… side-stepping, I believe."

Aragorn nodded but allowed no happiness to his mind, his mood deadly serious as he drew his sword.

It had taken Legolas and Gimli all morning to dissuade Aragorn from gallivanting off and seeking revenge on the elf's behalf, and even then they had been hard-pressed to produce a lie convincing enough to hide Legolas' ailment. In the end they had recalled upon the Warg attack and settled on their blame, claiming that Legolas had not been as lucky as Gimli in the fight; Gimli had even characteristically argued that there was no luck involved, but swordsmanship.

Of course, the dwarf still disagreed with the decision to lie to the ranger, but even he was relieved to hear that Théoden spoken of nothing further than Legolas' blindness, and that Aragorn hadn't the contact with any others as of yet, not even Éowyn.

"Come, Mellon nîn, you will insist on fighting and I will not be able to stop you." Aragorn twisted the sword in his grip as he spoke, flexing his wrist, "But I will not send you to the warfront with naught if you cannot fight me."

Legolas sighed lightly, rising gracefully to his feet and pulling out his knives as he stepped carefully over to his friend. Aragorn swung an arc the moment he was within reach, and the elf immediately followed the swish of his sword with his mind, bringing both knives up to meet and deflect them. The movement was not as graceful as usual, not even close, but served the purpose of protecting him.

Both fighters leapt back from the clash, landing lightly on the balls of their feet as Aragorn intently watched the elf's movements, tracking every hesitation with the eyes of a hawk.

Without warning he swung again and Legolas managed to parry, hesitating as he swung a blow of his own; he was clearly afraid that in his blinded state he would wound his friend. A frown flitted onto the ranger's face as he dodged, side-stepping quickly to the side as Legolas spun away to avoid a backlash.

Will he hesitate when it is not I, but an Uruk-hai charging towards him? Aragorn wondered, before ducking a double slice. Perhaps, perhaps not.

Aragorn continued his attack, cleverly avoiding injuring his friend but working his senses relentlessly. Blow, swing, parry, parry… duck, stumble, regain footing, block. Aragorn mentally noted down Legolas' every move, from the stumbles to the strengths, from the dodges to the hesitations.

Even without his sight the elf was still a reasonable fighter. By no means was he a fraction of what he once was, but even past the stumbles, hesitations and small mistakes he evaded any dangerous attacks.

Though perhaps I have judged too soon, Aragorn rethought as he swung low and Legolas jumped to avoid it, before stumbling on landing and ending heavily on his knees, Aragorn's sword posed at his neck.

The two remained like that for a short moment, catching their breaths as Gimli puffed anxiously on his pipe. The dwarf's eyes flitted nervously from the elf to the ranger, and his sigh of relief was loud and evident as Aragorn withdrew his sword with a satisfied nod, sheathing his sword again as Legolas rose to his feet and cautiously found his own knives.

"By no means am I happy, Mellon nîn, yet…" Aragorn murmured, scratching thoughtfully at his beard, "You still retain the skill of many men… Come, we must prepare for the fight."

With that he turned and stalked off, and Legolas was left to nod at the air before following with Gimli as the three strode silently through the corridors and hallways.

In no more than half a minute had the able sighted of the three become increasingly grim as they walked, passing many war-fitted men; some old and with brittle bones, others with cherubic sullen faces and a head full of hair: these were no men.

"Farmers, ferriers, stable boys." Aragorn muttered bitterly as they passed a sobbing young boy, "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli chipped in.

"Or too few..." Legolas finished softly, the sobs reaching his ears.

Old, young, inexperienced… Estel is right, these are certainly no soldiers. Their scared and I need no eyes to see it; I can feel it in the air, in my bones. And so they should be frightened… Three hundred men… against ten thousand! Yes, they have a better chance here then perhaps at Edoras, but this is a battle we cannot win… they are all going to die!

Legolas listened to the thuds of Gimli's boots, then to the softer steps of Aragorn. The ranger was worried, even if he didn't care to admit it. He'd the heart of a true king, noble and true to his entire kingdom, kin and those of his allies. Legolas sighed.

…and if Estel dies as one of them… Middle-Earth will be lost.

But before he could reconsider his thoughts a startling sound rang through the air; a clear hoot loud and resonating.

"That is no orc horn!" Legolas cried, turning on his heels and sprinting, dodging the voices and making sure to follow the exact same path as the running footsteps of Aragorn, with the slower thuds of Gimli lagging behind them both. Descending… why are Estel's steps descending? Ah, stairs. Legolas flitted elegantly down them and came to a halt at the bottom, stood beside the steady breathing of Aragorn, and the slower of Théoden. Immediately ahead of them stood rows of many silent breathing beings, their breaths graceful…and familiar.

The Elves had come to Helms Deep. But how?

"I bring word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell. An Alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together." Spoke the rich and regal voice of Haldir, his tone deep and proud, "We come to honour that allegiance."

There was a shocked pause that rippled through the men, before Aragorn let out a short, relieved laugh and rushed forward to embrace the marchwarden.

"Mae govannen, Haldir!" He exclaimed happily, releasing him from the bone-crushing hug, "You are most welcome!"

Legolas smiled also, stepping forward to greet Haldir, his breath held with trepidation. His offered arm was gripped in return with enthusiasm, but seemed to linger for an almost undetectable moment; a message.

"We are proud to fight alongside Men once more." Haldir stated; his smile evident in his voice.

Theoden chuckled gladly, striding forward and talking quickly with Haldir of battle arrangements. It did not take long for the two to come to a satisfied agreement before Aragorn took charge of the elves, leading them to their places as Haldir lingered behind with Legolas.

"It has gotten worse." Haldir murmured in elvish; it was not a question but a statement and his tone voiced the graveness of it all.

"Yes, not long ago." Legolas murmured back, running his hands over his bow. I have forgotten to practise, he thought instinctively. It is too late now.

Haldir was silent for a moment, and the Elven prince had the feeling that he was being watched, scrutinised even as the silence drew out uncomfortably.

"Why?"

Not how but why. Haldir clearly knew everything there was to know about his ailment, perhaps even more. Perhaps he even knew when, or what after.

Perhaps he looks at me now with pity…

"I had thought Estel to be dead." Legolas admitted with a quiet sigh, turning his face to the floor, "I had thought hope to be dead."

"Hope is never dead, Thranduillion." Haldir disagreed with a small woeful sigh, his voice low and grave with sorrow, "You know what this means… Are you even fit to battle?"

"Even if I was not, I would do so anyway." Legolas told him with strength, "I'll not fade from this world while my friends contribute in battle and I sit useless in solitary."

Haldir sighed again, shifting his weight uncomfortably as the two began to slowly walk to their positions at the wall.

"What never ceases to amaze me," He began, ascending the stone staircase, "is the pride of the elves of Eryn Lasgalen. You will be careful?"

"I will. You need not worry about me, Haldir." Legolas reassured him, as they neared the heavy breathing of Gimli.

"I hope I shall have no cause to. I should like to see you in one piece if we survive this." Haldir replied, his voice rich with amusement, "Until then you need not look for trouble, it will come to you!"

Legolas smiled as Haldir's chuckles slowly faded away as the roars of the orcs neared.

"Whatever luck you live by... let's hope it lasts the night." Gimli suddenly spoke, presumably to the presence behind them; Aragorn.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn." Legolas said softly, as Gimli began to shift restlessly.

"Let's hope they last the night." The dwarf added, and the ranger chuckled wryly, clapping their shoulders before moving off while issuing elven orders.

Gimli shifted again, evidently frustrated as he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet in a bid to see over the wall.

"What's happening out there?" He finally exclaimed, sighing in exasperation.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas enquired innocently to his smaller friend, a smile playing on his lips, "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

For a moment the dwarf seemed mystified, before letting out a gruff bark of laughter, forgetting completely their situation.

Oh, how Legolas wished all worries would extinguish so easily.

But of course, that was not the case. All that filled the air was the screams and garbles of the barbaric orcs and Uruk-hai and creatures alike. He could smell their foul stench even from there.

Was that the stench of death?

"FIRE!"

And so it begins…

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